


cutie-q

by eeshbelle (1sabella)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunk Dancing, Gay Bar, M/M, background/implied Gwen/Morgana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 19:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1sabella/pseuds/eeshbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bugger. This new tendency to fall over really is inconvenient. He'd thought that the bar stools were at least stable, he should really complain to the management, but maybe when the room stops spinning and his stomach stops trying to force its way out of his face. Bloody organs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cutie-q

**Author's Note:**

> hey kids, drink responsibly! (as in less than merlin does in this) (oh god)
> 
> i _think_ this was inspired by a series of very alcohol fuelled birthday parties, the popularity of slut dropping, and the song 212 by azealia banks last year. found it whilst poking around my folders, tidied it up/adjusted a little bit and decided to post it, because i can't really do much else with it! 
> 
> a bit of fun bordering on crack featuring drunk!merlin and lots of swearing and a gay club in which the bar is apparently free enough that merlin can have a chat with the barman. have fun darlings xo

Merlin is in the zone tonight – right in the lovely spinney place in between awkward legs-and-arms-like-dried-spaghetti and oh-help-I’ve-fallen-over-again. His dancing, he's been told lots and lots and lots of times so it must be true, is really sexy and the terribly enthusiastic person wearing leather in front of him certainly seems to appreciate it. Oops! Now they're trying to grind against his crochet, or rather, croquet, in fact, crotch, but their buckley-tassel thing is tickling his stomach (nicely on show tonight, Gwen insisted that he wear his too-short t shirt, because “if people can see that happy trail of yours they might be more inclined to sleep with you!”). Oh Christ alive, he's going to laugh, this is unbearable – “Ooh, aha, ah, I- oh dear, just let me, just let me-” 

He ends up walking in a _perfectly normal_ and _completely sober_ manner to the bar and _does not stumble at all_ , not even once. When he gets there he slumps on a bar stool and idly eyes up the barman, who's looking particularly delectable this evening. 

“Gwaine. Gwaaaaaaine. Gwainnnnnnnne.” 

“Yes, oh light of my life?”

“Can I have another Jaeger-bomb? Also can I have some crisps, also can I bite your stomach but mmm not right now, like in a bit?” 

“Yes but take it easy, no because this isn't a pub, and have you met my Percy? Because he has very big muscles, Merlin.”

“Thank you Gwainey. Gwaineth. Ha. Maybe I should bite Pervy's stomach then.”

“Yeah, no more drink for you. Alright mate, what can I get ya?”

Having been dismissed by Gwaine, very rudely – honestly, all he'd wanted was a quick nibble – Merlin turns his attention to the floor. His eyes are immediately drawn to a particularly fine arse which is currently shaking its thang – it might be twerking but he's not actually sure what that is or if anyone does it any more. Maybe it was just a fad. It's almost hypnotic, actually, the way it's moving from side to side, up and down, side to side-

Bugger. This new tendency to fall over really is inconvenient. He'd thought that the bar stools were at least stable, he should really complain to the management, but maybe when the room stops spinning and his stomach stops trying to force its way out of his face. Bloody organs. Bloody arses.

“Are... You... Okay?”

Oh, hello Gwen. She's breathing on him – it smells of bananas, a daiquiri night then – and whisper-shouting exaggeratedly. Merlin shoves weakly at her arm and props himself up against the stool because he's not that drunk – oh, well maybe – and with her help he manages to stand again. 

“Maybe, you should just drink, like, water for a bit? Or maybe just have a sit down? I mean if you want to go home that's fine, it's just that there's this girl-”

“GWEN. Gwen! I'm fine. Stop, stop your fussing. No fussing! I... will wait here for a little bit then I will join you on le floor de la dance – why? Parce que I want to dance. Okey dokey?”

Merlin is true to his word. He tells Gwen so several times once he's gotten back into his dancing shoes or rather, sobered up enough to stop toppling like an axed sapling. They decide (in a move that might well be regretted forever more) to practice slut-dropping, because neither of them have done it before except all those times in the living room before coming out and that night out last week and in their lunch break yesterday. But apart from that they're novices! Utter novices. 

They must have some genetic talent for it, because a couple of rather attractive gentlemen appear, as well as someone who is most definitely female. When Gwen sees her, she blushes and mouths _that's the girl from earlier_ at him. She's a bit willowy and very pale, with dark hair, like the female version of Merlin if he was really, really, really hot. Like, _really_ hot. She grins at him, a bit feral, and he kind of whimpers a little bit then straightens up and starts being a bit manly, but she shakes her head at him so he shrugs and drops again, whee! On his way back up, the woman grabs the back of his head and wraps her fingers in his hair, shouts “My name's Morgana,” in his ear then plants a big kiss on his mouth. He kisses her on the nose and drags her back down with him.

He's gamely writhing away when the start of his current favourite song cuts in, then Morgana grabs his bony wrist and Gwen's hand and they start dancing together. Merlin starts feeling a bit weird then, because on a particularly graphic line Gwen and Morgana start grinding. He turns around from the girls only to come face to face (or rather, face to arse, but hopefully that'll come later) with the same bum that made him fall off his seat earlier. He scowls at it, then aims a smack at it, because when he's had enough to overcome his dancing paranoia he's had enough to smack people's arses without feeling bad. 

He's still scowling at it when its owner turns round and glares fiercely at him, then he realises that what's in front of him may actually be an actual Sex God, perhaps a little too nicely dressed to be Merlin's usual type, but certainly pretty enough that Merlin can forgive any circumstantial butt-related hypnosis. He stops ogling Sex Blonde's chest/thighs/shoulders/forearms just in time to realise that the guy is moaning on and on about something, so he tells him about how his bum made him fall over and that the man should seriously consider hiding it under some less fitted trousers. This shuts him up long enough for Merlin to start dancing again, all the while maintaining eye contact – sticky eyes, it's called, he read it in one of mum's self-help books – and trapping Pec Man with the power of his moves. He faintly ponders punching himself when he catches his own brain thinking “the power of my moves” then decides against it, because even powerful moves can't stop punching yourself seeming totally mental. 

In a lightening strike of genius, Merlin leans forward, ignoring Arsey Bloke's (arsey because he's an arse and because his arse) dumbfounded expression, until his lips are touching the man's ear; then licks his neck and BOOM! Drops like a stone to the floor and is up and away before Blondie can say a word. Result! The only thing is that he's still dancing with Gwen and Morgana, so Blondie is in fact still behind him, which might take away from the effect. Still, at least he can find Merlin again now, should he have... things on his mind. Um.

Merlin's just managed to lose himself in the beat when he feels breath on the nape of his neck and startles back to earth- Aha! The power of dance music with filthy lyrics must never be underestimated, young warlock. 

“Bathroom?” 

“I will have you know, sir, that I am a respectable man and will not stoop so low as the loos, no matter what the barman says- oh! It's you.”

“The name's Arthur.”

“Oh man, that's ridiculous, aha-”

“I fail to see what's so funny about the name Arthur, mate.”

“Well it's not so much yours as mine, seeing as mine is Merlin, buddy.”

“You can't be serious, bro.”

“I am perfectly serious, pal.”

At this point Merlin realises that he's been accidentally macho and squared up to Arthur, and in doing so is very, very close to his mouth. His really rather delectable mouth. It's now that he notices Arthur's tongue flicking out and Arthur's eyes trained on Merlin's lips. It's at this moment that Merlin thinks fuck it and licks the side of Arthur's face and turns towards the toilets, long fingers tight around Arthur's wrist.

What follows is really clumsy and awful, and after Merlin bangs his face and elbow for the third time each they decide to relocate, and after that it's really nice, and it turns out Morgana knows Arthur because they're actually related, so they're forced (but not really) into seeing each other again, and after that it's really really nice. Not really a fairytale, but fuck that, people in fairy tales don't get to lick each other this much.


End file.
